My Years in the Air Force

During my teenage years, while growing up at home, my Dad would occasionally ask me what I wanted to do with my future. At first, being so young and naive, I didn't know exactly how to answer him. I come from a large family of 5 brothers and four sisters, and I knew I wouldn't afford a college education after high school. During my high school years and even before, my brothers and I would help our Dad in the agricultural fields where we lived in Hanford, California. One thing I knew for sure was that I would not pursue a lifelong career in this type of employment.

One day, to my Dad's relief, I told him I was thinking of joining some branch of the military service. I was always intrigued by and interested in aircraft and enjoyed watching them fly. Finally, I decided to join the U.S. Air Force and was sworn- in on March 2, 1966. The Vietnam War was escalating during this period, and I did not want to be drafted into the U.S. Army. If I was going to end up in Vietnam, I wanted it to be on my terms. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened.

I left for basic training from the induction center in Fresno, California, and arrived at Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, in early May 1966. I remember arriving late at night and began being processed in. While waiting in line to be processed, I noticed one recruit put his handbag on the floor. It did not take long for him to be screamed at by one of the sergeants saying, "Pick up that bag! What have you got in there, money ??" My training instructor was a hard-core E-4 who had lost a stripe for hitting another NCO. His name was Airman First Class Spillman, who had this rugged, rock-jaw look. Our barracks in those days were the old wooden built 2-story type buildings. One day during an inspection, the TI (training instructor) was on the second floor while the rest were at attention on the first floor. Suddenly we heard glass breaking and saw a foot locker come flying out of the 2nd floor. Some recruit messed up so badly that TI got pretty upset about finding a foot locker so out of order. Another time, he searched for inspection tags in our newly issued military clothing. We only had so much time to remove all the tags before inspection. One poor soul somehow had left a lot of tags in the pockets. The TI told him to put the tags in his mouth and turn around. As soon as he did, the TI gave him a hard kick which we could hear from where we stood. I don't know how seriously the recruit was hurt, but I was glad not to be in his shoes.

Before I completed basic training, they had given TI Spillman back his stripe and promoted him back to SSgt. I remember him telling us not to let the same ranking airmen as us push us around once we got to Sheppard, AFB, Texas, where I was going to receive my technical training on the-130 cargo-transport aircraft. Tech school was a unique place. Every day one could witness hundreds of troops from different squadrons marching to and from their respective training classes.

During my time at Sheppard AFB, I volunteered to be a Chaplain's assistant at the Sunday Mass services. Another buddy of mine from Madera, CA, George Chavez, also joined me at the Sunday Mass. Our job was to usher the worshipers to their pews. We were required to wear our 1505's (tan) uniform to the church, which I enjoyed because we could wear a white braided rope around our shoulders. I thought the braid made our uniform look extra sharp. About this same time at Sheppard, AFB, I remember becoming very homesick. I had spent two months in basic training, and I was going to spend another two and one-half months in tech school. This was the first time in my life that I would be separated from my family and friends at home for such a long time. I don't really know why but I found myself missing my brothers mostly. When you grow up as kids and begin to mature as young men, you form such a strong and loving bond. Don't get me wrong; I also missed my sisters and parents.

Toward the end of tech school training, a few other trainees and I learned we would receive PCS (permanent change station) orders for Elmendorf AFB, Anchorage, Alaska, which is under the Alaskan Air Command. This was going to be a 2-year hitch in Alaska. Some of my fellow airmen and I began to form a strong and lasting friendship, and to this day, we still correspond with each other by phone or email.

It took me about 4 to 6 months to get used to the weather environment after arriving in Alaska. I remember being in my summer dress blues when I got off the plane in Anchorage in late September 1966. Talk about an eye-opener! I told myself, "What did I get myself into ?!" But it was only a matter of time before I became accustomed to the cold weather. During the winter months, I recall walking from the chow hall to the Flightline and, on the way listening to my boots making a crunching noise in the freshly fallen snow. The sun would not be up yet, and the surrounding area would be eerily quiet.

While at Elmendorf AFB, we would periodically fly to Sondrestrom, Greenland, to support the DEW (Defense Early Warning) sites on the Greenland ice cap during the "Cold War." This could only be accomplished with our C-130D ski-equipped aircraft. There were 12 C-130's in our squadron at Elmendorf, and we would rotate to Greenland approximately every three months. It seemed like I could never escape the freezing cold weather. 

During my two years at Elmendorf, I made some life-long friends with whom I still make contact to this day. After leaving Alaska, many of these same buddies and I were again stationed together for another 18 months at Dyess AFB, Abilene, Texas, under the Tactical Air Command.

Getting back to Alaska, my buddies and I were fortunate enough to meet a Flightline supervisor NCO by the name of John Camacho. He had been in the Air Force many years before us and knew his way around the C-130 and the military as a whole. I remember him taking us on a couple of camping and fishing trips with his family. He seemed to know where all the good camping sites were, and we would get lost in the forests and lakes of Alaska.  He occasionally told us younger guys that once we left Alaska and ended up at a TAC (Tactical Air Command) base, we would constantly be going TDY (temporary duty) at any given time. As it turned out, that is exactly what happened to me and the few of us that would be stationed together again. We speak highly of John often.

My buddies and I, especially those of us who were younger than 21, were always looking for some form of entertainment during our time off from the Flightline. Sometimes we would designate one of our barracks rooms as the "drinking" or party room for one night, usually on a Friday. We always had plenty of rock and roll and R&B music to listen to and dance to (no women), and by the end of the evening, the floor was covered in spilled beer and hard liquor. Whew! One can imagine what the room smelled like the following day! After we all turned 21 and over, we would make the two-mile trip to downtown Anchorage and patronize the bars there.

I should mention that I learned to snow ski during my time in Alaska. I had never been on a set of skis before, but fortunately, it didn't take me long to stay upright and make some fancy turns. The funny thing about snow skiing.... when you're going 30 miles per hour, it seems like you're going 50 !! Luckily, I never broke a leg. Before leaving Alaska, I was promoted to E-4, Sergeant. Making rank was always welcome because it meant more pay.

One day, one of my very close buddies, Larry Pottorff, asked me if I wanted to be on our squadron football team. He would become our coach and quarterback. I never played football in high school, so I accepted the challenge. I played two positions on the team, center and defensive end. Of course, I got a lot of coaching from Larry, who taught me how to center the football correctly and how to protect him on the offensive line from a defense with guys bigger than me. Although we played flag football, you could never tell by the way a lot of our jerseys got ripped off by the opposing teams......my jersey being one of them. As it turned out, we won 2 championship trophies after the season. Larry and I talk about those days often. 

I always considered the C-130 a safe aircraft. After all, it was my job to keep them in safe flying condition. But for all the time I spent flying, there were a few dangerous incidents I would not want to relive. On one occasion, we landed on the Greenland ice cap, but when it came time to depart, the ski-equipped landing gear could not clear the ice for takeoff. The slick ice created a suction on the Teflon bottom of the ski. If we had not been successful on the third takeoff try, we would not have had enough fuel to return to our base, and we would have been stranded on the ice cap for an undetermined amount of time.

Another incident came when we were flying at a high altitude and a "door open" light came on in the flight deck. The pilot began descending the aircraft quickly and also began depressuring the aircraft very rapidly. At first, the crew chief and I were unsure of what was happening, but before long, we felt the effects of hypoxia (lack of oxygen to the brain). We had only one oxygen mask between us, and I remember reaching for the mask in a slow-motion manner. It didn't take long for the fuselage pressure to stabilize, and we finally felt OK. 

There would be at least one more incident where I was concerned about my safety. In late 1969 we loaded the cargo compartment full of U.S. Army troops from the 101st Airborne Division from Fort Bragg, North Carolina. We were going to take them on a parachute jump flight from point A to point B. While in mid-flight, I was walking through the cargo compartment when one of the Army troops got my attention. He was pointing to the hydraulic panel behind me. I turned around and saw a pink misty cloud coming from the hydraulic panel. I could tell that it was a hydraulic leak coming from the main landing gear valve. Hydraulic fluid is red, but under 3000 pounds of leaking pressure, it releases a pink mist. I was on my radio headset and immediately contacted the flight engineer up on the flight deck. He came down to my location, took one look, and quickly moved back up to the flight deck. Knowing exactly what to do, he turned off the power to the utility hydraulic panel and turned on the power to the booster hydraulic panel. The C-130 comes equipped with a reliable hydraulic backup system. To everyone's relief, the problem was solved.....temporarily at least. I might have given the Army troop the thumbs up at this point. After the flight was over and back on the ground, I assisted the hydraulic specialist in changing the main landing gear valve. 
My first TDY from Dyess, AFB, Texas, was to Tachikawa Air Base, Japan, for three months. Although life there would be fast-paced, it was an enjoyable experience. I remember landing at Tachikawa one early January morning in 1969. I could see the orange-colored morning sun shining on Mount Fujiyama. I picked up a few Japanese words and phrases while stationed in Tachikawa. I still use them to this day.

One morning while reporting for roll-call, we were asked if we wanted to volunteer for another temporary assignment to Vietnam. They asked for volunteers to salvage parts off a C-130E that had been damaged by enemy mortar fire on an Army LZ (landing zone). I looked from side to side at my buddies, and we raised our hands, not knowing exactly what we were getting ourselves into. We took off for Vietnam from Japan in the early evening hours and landed in Cam Rahn Bay late at night. In the end, about ten of us landed in the LZ with our combat helmets, M-16 rifles, flak jackets, and toolboxes! After almost a month in Vietnam, I was glad to hear we were finally going back to Japan. I witnessed a few things that reminded me I was in a war zone and was happy to return to Japan. After I was honorably discharged from the Air Force, I decided to write a short story about some of my experiences while in Vietnam. The following is the story titled "My Time In a War Zone," written on September 24, 2012:

"My name is Fred Rodriguez from Hanford, CA. I was trained as a ground maintenance mechanic on the C-130 cargo transport plane in the U.S.Air Force. In January 1969, I received orders for temporary duty to Tachikawa Air Base, Japan. While in Japan, we learned of a C-130 that had been mortared by enemy fire while on the ground at an Army LZ in Vietnam. 

About 10 of us volunteered to fly into the LZ to salvage any aircraft parts that were still usable. We first landed in Cam Rahn Bay by the South China Sea. That first night at Cam Rahn, we could hear machine gun fire shattering the dark and quiet night. After staying there overnight, we landed at Tan Son Nhut Air Base outside of Saigon. From there, we would fly to the LZ on a C-123 cargo transport plane, then back to Tan Son Nhut at the end of the day. While recovering parts from the damaged C-130, I also witnessed two other cargo transport planes make a controlled crash landing on the makeshift runway. One was carrying pallets of artillery shells but luckily did not explode. Another plane apparently landed on a chuckhole and blew half of the nose landing gear off, which came dangerously close to me as I witnessed the landing. One of the aircraft was supposed to return us to Tan Son Nhut, but because it was not flyable, we had to stay overnight at the Army LZ. It was an eerie experience to spend the night in a strange and dark jungle surrounding.

By this time, we had already made some buddies with the Army troops who were stationed there. At first, some of the troops found it rather humorous when we would offload from our aircraft with flak vests, combat helmets, M-16 rifles, and toolboxes. One day we were visited by a battalion of South Vietnamese troops passing by. One of these troops was caught stealing some property from one of our troops and was beaten severely with a rubber hose in the dirt and dust by his Commander.

In one other instance, I witnessed a crippled H1 Huey helicopter come in and skid to a stop. A body bag unraveled, and a mangled body of a U.S. soldier fell to the chopper floor. I learned later it was the Door Gunner.

While working on the disabled C-130, I made friends with a Vietnamese boy who looked to be about 9-10 years old and did not speak any English. He would hang out with us (or me mostly) every day we were there. I felt sorry for him because he would always wear the same dirty and oversize t-shirt. It seemed to be the only piece of clothing he had. If I remember correctly, his name was "Bul." I took one snapshot of him and still have it in my military records at home. Sometimes I wonder if he survived the war.

The aircraft recovery process went on for about one month. After accomplishing our mission in Vietnam, it was time to return to Tachikawa, Japan. I felt like Japan was my home compared to being in a war zone, and I was glad to be returning to a non-combat area. It was a good feeling to finally get off the runway at Tan Son Nhut, headed for Tachikawa. After my TDY duty in Japan, we returned to our PCS (permanent change station) duty at Dyess Air Force Base, Texas, around April 1, 1969." 

There would be one more 3- month TDY duty overseas: Mildenhall Air Base, England. I have a difficult time remembering what exactly our mission was while in England. I do remember being at the base NCO club on the evening of July 20, 1969. That was the day Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. The club was filled with loud yelling and jubilation after witnessing Armstrong make that first foot impression on the moon. That's one experience that will be difficult to forget.

After returning to Dyess AFB from England in August 1969, I could sense and feel that my time in the Air Force was coming to a close. I had met and become friends with so many different people during my military years, and I was sorry and sad for thinking I would not see them again.

Two or three months before being discharged from the Air Force, I was asked if I wanted to take the NCO Exam to get promoted to E-5, Staff Sergeant possibly. I respectfully declined. But I suppose because of my good record; I was promoted to E-5 one month before my discharge date.

On the last day of my military life, I remember being processed out in the same room with some of the same guys who were with me when I had joined, three years and ten months before. The difference was that we were a lot more mature and older, and some of us wore four stripes on our sleeves instead of no stripes. I remember thinking it was a very long three years and ten months spent but, suddenly, it was over.

I have no regrets about joining the Air Force. The experience taught me many good things, and, as I mentioned before, I made many friends and formed a great relationship with some of the people I met, not only stateside but in other countries as well. 

As a military veteran, I try to take advantage of the VA and other benefits I earned as a result of my service to my country.

Fred Rodriguez
14089 1/4 Ave.
Hanford, CA93230
559-904-3362
rodrigf69pu@outlook.com